


big brother

by liionne



Series: Tumblr Prompts [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big brother steve rogers, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, M/M, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Tumblr Prompt, hydra clones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>not-really-unique prompt? WS!Steve finds out Hydra had been experimenting with cloning and sets off to eliminate the danger. Upon finding clones of himself in various degrees of adolescence & serum-ness, he proceeds to eliminate Hydra bases with extreme prejudice and rescues any clones he finds. Steve ends up bonding with his clones and views them as younger siblings. Big brother WS Steve! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	big brother

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful **seeyouinhell**! I also _love_ this prompt, so I hope I did it justice!

He begins to regret the beard just as soon as he places the mask over his mouth, grimacing. Bucky had liked the beard. He had ran his fingers through short, scratchy hairs and had rubbed his cheek against it too, obviously enjoying it, and the Soldier - no,  _Steve_  - had liked that. Making his final target happy had become his  _new_  mission.

But now, as he slips into the building through a skylight in one of the laboratories, he wishes he had shaved it off.

Everything is eerily silent, and he grimaces beneath the mask. He hates it when they have already packed up and moved on; how is he supposed to enact his revenge in a dead husk of a building? There’s not even a skeleton crew to take out, just his own footsteps echoing down each hallway he walks along, blue eyes searching for any sign of life.

He finds it in a way he had not expected; a boy, about thirteen, sat staring at the window in the door. He has a mop of blonde hair falling into his eyes, and oddly defined muscles for a child. Though he does not know much these days, Steve knows what that means. A clone. Those bastards messed around with his genetics.

He cracks the lock off the door with his steel-capped boot, and rescues the little man who seems entirely indifferent over the matter.

* * *

Steve calls Bucky, and Bucky sends Natasha and Barton, who take the boy back to the US - along with Steve. The boy hasn’t let go of Steve’s hand since he was first set onto the ground, on two very sturdy feet.

“Does he… does he have a name?” Bucky asks in muttered Spanish, a language they’ve decided the child may well not know; he was found in a base in the Ukraine, so, they all assume, he’ll speak Ukrainian, Romanian, and Russian. Spanish seems like a safe language.

“I don’t know.” Steve answers, and he looks at the boy, switching to Russian as he asks “Do you have a name?”

“ _Khlopchyk_.” The child answers, casting his eyes up to Steve’s. They’re the same hue of blue that Bucky would know anywhere, and it’s off-putting, to say the least, to see them worn on another pair of eyes. 

Steve looks up at Bucky, switches back to Spanish, and responses, “Boy.”

They leave it at that.

~*~

Bucky sits on the other side of the quinjet, chewing his nails. It’s a fairly new habit; ever since he got Steve back he’s been run ragged, and chewing his nails just… came up. Just stuck. He would like to kick the habit, actually, but he’s a fair way gone now.

The two sit on the other side of the jet, and mutter in a mixture of Slavic languages. Bucky can only catch a few words here and there; he never did get around to learning Russian, and he certainly doesn’t know Ukrainian or Romanian. So he has to just watch as the serious conversation lowly becomes more and more light, how the young boy seems to melt into Steve, warming up to him in mere minutes. Probably because they’re the same person. They must have a lot in common.

By the time they’re getting off the quinjet in New York, they’re both quiet, but the boy seems to be a lot happier than he was before.

“I’ll stay for two weeks.” Steve tells him, in English this time. “And then I go back.”

Bucky nods, gives the boy a small smile, and watches the two of them retreat into the tower.

~*~

Steve finds a lot more of them after that. It was like he had opened a floodgate; Steve found Khlopchyk, and now he can’t  _stop_  finding them. He finds one cowering in a lab, hiding in a huge coat, hidden inside a cupboard in a base in Romania. He finds another two, one who looks almost like an adult, perhaps nineteen or twenty, the other who must be about ten. Ten is the youngest he’s seen so far, and he hopes it’s the youngest he has to see.

Some are more sickly than others. Whilst the nineteen year old (who calls himself Starshiy -  _older_  in Russian) seems pretty healthy, save for the way he always watches Steve’s lips when he speaks, Molozhe ( _younger_  in Russian) coughs and squeaks, chest rattling, hiding his face in Starshiy’s chest whenever a big fit scares him.

Steve eventually returns home with another four of these little clones. Starshiy and Molozhe, Andrei (the boy from Romania, seemingly the only one with an actual name, and still wearing that lab coat) and Vidmova (Steve’s lips hard furled at that one. Vidmova was easily the sickest and frailest of them all, looking about twelve though he claimed to be fifteen, and they had named him  _Failure_ ) had all accompanied him to the tower, all various heights and weights and body shapes, but all with the familiar blonde hair and blue eyes, the signature Steve Roger’s angular features, the mulish look in their eyes when asked to do something they don’t want to do. Khlopchyk looks a little intimidated when he sees them all, but Bucky watches as he leans down to give the kid a hug, regarding him for a second, before he looks to Bucky.

“We need to get the others settled.” He says, and Bucky nods. Steve has been away for about a month, but their reunion can wait until later.

~*~

It’s a good job Stark has a lot of money to throw around, Bucky thinks, as he pulls in a dozen shopping bags full of various-sized clothing, and looks towards the direction of the new boys rooms. Khlopchyk had wanted a room of his own, but Starshiy demanded he sleep with Molozhe, blue eyes cold and threatening, and Andrei had quietly accepted when asked if he wanted to share with Vidmova. 

Steve and Bucky had gotten their reunion, but about an hour after Bucky had nodded off, Steve had pressed his sweat pants into his hands, already fumbling with his own. Frowning, Bucky had put them on, and just as soon as he had, the door creaked open, and Khlopchyk scurried inside. He clambered onto the bed next to Steve, and went to sleep without another word.

Steve allowed it, and Bucky could understand why.

Now, though, he looks in the direction of their rooms, and he gives a short huff. Five new little Steves is a lot to cope with, especially when he just got his  _own_  Steve back.

He cooks enough breakfast to feed a small army, and watches as they all troop into the kitchen in military fashion. Steve follows at the end, bringing up the rear, and he dips in close to kiss Bucky’s cheek, beard scratching Bucky’s skin, before he grabs some plates.

“Their clothes came.” Bucky informs him, looking at the various state of undress the children are in. Though the two, Starshiy and Molozhe, were both in pretty regular looking clothes (if a little grimy and hole-riddled), Andrei was still wearing the lab coat, and Vidmova had been bundled up in one of Steve’s dressing gowns (which he never wore anyway) for warmth.

Steve gives a nod. “I’ll sort them out after breakfast.” he murmurs, turning to set plates down in front of each of them. Bucky follows suit. He has a lot of questions, but seemingly, they can wait.

~*~

“What’s he going to do with all the mini mes?” Tony asks over a cup of coffee, sitting opposite Bucky in the communal area of the Tower. Natasha sits by his side, and Clint by hers, Bruce reading some kind of scientific journal on his StarkPad by Tony’s side.

“I think he’s keeping them.” Bucky explains. “He’s cleaning them up and getting them deloused right now. I’ve not see him care so much about something since that stray kitten in ‘33.”

“The Winter Soldier used to adopt stray kittens?” Natasha muses, her lips turning up in a slight smirk. 

“And puppies.” Bucky confirmed. “Shame he was allergic to both.”

“Not the point.” Tony says, leading them away from their tangent. “Are they all staying  _here_?”

“I guess.” Bucky says, slowly. “Where else would they go?”

Tony’s shrug reads  _orphanage_ , and Bucky’s nose wrinkles. They can’t do that, and every person in the room knows it.

“We’ll manage.” Bucky says, finally, and takes another sip of his coffee.

~*~

It takes about a month for things to get settled.

All five pick things up startlingly well. They’re speaking pretty fluent English by the end of the month, and they know how to work everything in the kitchen, as well as in the rest of the tower. They are allowed to roam as freely as they wish, but they usually don’t go too far from each other, or from Steve if he happens to be in the room.

They loosen up, slowly but surely. It isn’t  _easy_. They haven’t been through the same kinds of things that Steve has, but they’ve also been spliced from Steve’s own genes, and grown in a HYDRA facility. They have nightmares, they’re quiet around anyone but each other. They often whisper in languages Bucky doesn’t know, maybe even a language they’ve made up themselves, and they don’t seem to like the cold too much. It doesn’t help that Vidmova is seriously sick sometimes; most of them have learned now what to do in the event of a serious asthma attack.

Steve seems to be less like a mother duck, and more like a big brother. They fight with him and argue with him, but they all look up to him (quite literally, as well as metaphorically), and they do tend to do as he says.

Bucky comes home to find Steve and Starshiy rolling around the floor, throwing punches, pinning each other to the plush cream carpet. They both laugh every so often, and the boys who sit around, watching them, all seem to be enjoying it too.

Steve rolls over and pins Starshiy again, and Khlopchyk begins to count out loud, down from ten. When he reaches zero he throws his hands up, as does Steve, and they celebrate their victory together with a high-five. Starshiy pretends to sulk as he goes to sit by Molozhe, grinning at the little guy.

“What are you guys up to?” Bucky calls as he walks past. He has paper work to do, so he can’t stop, but he has time to ask.

“Wrestling.” Vidmova answers. 

“Steve is undefeated champion!” Khlopchyk crows, and he high-fives Steve again.

“Is that so?” Bucky asks, eyebrow arching.

“What?” Steve demands. “You think you could take me?”

“I  _know_  I could take you.” Bucky retorts. “But not right now.” He adds, trying not to sound too hasty. “ _Some_  of us have work to do.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and Starshiy snickered. “Rematch!” He declared, standing up and tackling Steve to the floor again, earning an excited whoop from the other boys.

~*~

Bucky is doing laundry when he walks past the half-opened door to Andrei and Vidmova’s room, and hears soft sobbing. He looks in, peering into the darkened room, and finds Steve on the bed, with his arm around Andrei. The kid is sobbing, muffled sobs, snot creeping down his upper lip, but Steve holds him regardless, arm around his shoulder.

Steve has been doing remarkably well since the five little clones moved in; he was almost his own man when he had come back with Khlopchyk, and now he was certainly better, out of his shell, and having a few less nightmares. Bucky was happy for him. Happy for all of them.

“I miss her.” Andrei sobs, and hunches his shoulders. 

Steve had told him about Andrei. Andrei, the only one with a real name, had been looked after by a lab technician - the same one whose coat he wore. She was the only parent he had ever known, and Bucky thought maybe that was worse than the other four, who had never known any at all.

“I miss my ma too.” Steve says softly, rubbing his arm. “I do. Not all the time - but sometimes. And it’s okay to miss her, y’know? That’s alright. It’s a  _good_  thing. But when you do miss her, you’ve just got to remember all the good things about her, and be happy about the time you had with her. Okay?”

“Okay.” Andrei sniffles after a moment. He turns, pressing his face into Steve’s chest. “Thanks Steve.” He says, voice somewhat muffled by Steve’s shirt. 

Bucky leaves, then. Lets them get on with it. Steve seems to be doing a pretty good job at being a big brother.

~*~

“Last one to breakfast is a rotten egg!” Steve calls from his spot by the table, and Bucky chuckles when he hears the thundering of five pairs of feet against the floor, heading for the table set with seven plates of pancakes. It’s been a long time getting here, Bucky thinks, three months after they first brought Khlopchyk home, but it’s been good. They’ve  _both_  bonded with the children. To get rid of them now would be to get rid of the majority of their family.

“Nu uh, Molo, move over. Steve argued, elbowing the kid until he shuffled over, swaying slightly when he shoved back. “Biggest plate is always mine, ‘n second biggest is Bucky’s. All you boys shuffle round.”

There was a chorus of snickering and a huff from Molozhe, who tucked into his significantly smaller plate with gusto. Bucky, stood at the counter, took a surreptitious photo of them all together, smiling, all sporting horrible, straw-coloured bed hair. If he had a photo album he’d print it out and put the photo in it, but for the lack of one, he makes it his lock screen photo, and smiles as he takes his seat at the table.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts, questions and comments are welcome at [my tumblr](http://achaiion.tumblr.com)


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